


Coming Home Late

by Juli



Series: Coming Home [1]
Category: Die Hard (Movies), Live Free or Die Hard (2007)
Genre: Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-14
Updated: 2011-12-14
Packaged: 2017-10-27 07:56:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/293445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Juli/pseuds/Juli
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Matt's late coming home from work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coming Home Late

John McClane waited up for his lover. Not that he would admit that was what he was doing, but he knew damn well that it was. John took another swig of his beer and slid down slightly in the easy chair he was sitting on. John had been called many things in his life, but patient had never been one of them.

It was a good thing for the state of Matty’s ass that he’d called to let McClane know he was running late. Then he’d called a second time to inform John that it would be even later. The third time, Matt had texted, which had been smart of him. John smirked. Matty’d proven that he was brave, but he also was skilled at ducking McClane’s ire when he could. John had given the kid another hour and then he’d texted back, “Home. Now.”

Matt should be walking in any moment. For as much as the kid claimed to be anti-establishment, he was capable of following an order, for self preservation if nothing else.

The game that was on the television wasn’t all that interesting, certainly not enough to distract McClane. It didn’t help that his team was getting their butts wiped, either. John was just about to call Matt and lay down a verbal ultimatum when he heard the key in the door.

“About damn time,” John muttered under his breath. He turned his face towards the TV, but kept the front door in his peripheral sight.

Matt was not a quiet person. Even when on the computer, he liked to have music blasting. Other times, Matt talked a mile a minute. Sometimes, he did all three at the same time, computer, talking and music. So when Matt came in without saying a word, it was unusual. Even when he knew he was in trouble, Matt was far more likely to come in trumpeting his reasons why McClane shouldn’t be mad at him.

This time, Matt did none of that. Instead, he came through the door without a word. He paused long enough in the foyer to lift the strap of his messenger bag over his head, dumping the computer case on the chair placed there. John could see the bag was bulging and, even from the distance he was sitting, he could also see the red mark on Matt’s neck from where the strap had rubbed against the skin. Matt had brought work home with him.

Still silent, Matt trudged into the living room; walking as though he had the weight of the world on his slumped shoulders. He was also limping, something that only happened when Matt was exhausted or had overdone it. Concerned, John sat up straighter in his chair and put his beer bottle down; he wanted all of his focus on Matt. It was a good thing he did, because Matt didn’t stop. When he reached John, Matt simply climbed into the other man’s lap.

John’s arms came around to cradle and steady Matt. Within moments, Matt had wrapped himself around the older man. He still wasn’t talking and John could feel the tension in the lithe body in his arms. He nuzzled Matt’s hair and rubbed his back gently.

“Who do I need to kill?” John asked, his tone much softer than his stark question.

Matt replied readily enough, although his words were muffled. The young man had his face buried in the juncture between John’s jaw and neck. “Three servers.”

John rubbed some more before he answered. “A server’s a computer thing, right? It’s not a waiter or something?”

“Yes, it’s a computer thing,” Matt snorted. He lifted his face from John’s neck long enough to grin at him. It was a shadow of Matt’s normal smile, but John was glad to see it. “And the dickwad I’m currently working for has three of them, the newest of which, and trust me, I’m using the word ‘new’ loosely, is over seven years old.”

There was a lot of frustration under the exhaustion in Matt’s voice, which gave John a clue about how to respond. “And that’s old, right?”

“For a shared server with 200 plus clients, it is,” Matt groaned. “And not all those clients are even running PCs. Some have Macs, but they still need to be synched with the PCs, so they all get the same service level. To make life even more interesting, some have Windows XP, some have Vista and one lucky guy has 7, so the software platforms vary too.”

“And that’s really bad, right?” John was relieved to feel the muscles under his hands relaxing, if only a little. Venting was doing Matt a world of good.

“It’s complicated and my client is such a tightwad that that he put off replacing them when he should and just patched things here and there. It’s a hot mess, but of course, I’m at fault because I’m the consultant and should be able to fix it,” Matt wiggled. “A little lower, please.”

John obligingly moved his hands so that he was stroking Matt’s lower back. The younger man sighed in contentment and relaxed even more.

“Some of these government offices have had their budgets cut to the bone,” John explained. “It might have been a case of having to choose between equipment upgrades and laying people off.”

Matt nodded. “Yeah, I suppose. Still sucks, though.”

“You‘re doing good, kid,” John bent and kissed Matt’s dark hair. “I’m sure that hacking would be a lot more fun than what you‘re doing now.”

His comment caused Matt to snort. “Getting a tooth pulled without Novocain would be a lot more fun, trust me.”

John smirked, glad to hear the complaining. It meant that Matt was unwinding. Given how utterly beat the kid had looked when he walked in, that was a good thing. Matt could run on caffeine and sugar for longer than was good for him, but when he crashed, he crashed hard.

After the fire sale, Matt had actually gone legit with his computer skills. John thought it was partially out of a sense of guilt for his part in it, unknowing though it had been. More than that, though, John thought that hacking wasn’t fun for Matt anymore, now that he knew what kind of damage could be caused by those kind of illicit activities.

And maybe, just maybe, John had been a good influence.

For whatever the final reason, Matt had turned consultant and was in high demand amongst government agencies. The irony wasn’t lost on either of them, but Matt took the work. Corporate jobs would have paid better, but Matt seemed content with the projects that were connected to any type of law enforcement. Maybe it was his own type of penance.

“Besides, they weren’t shooting at me, so how bad could be?” Matt was almost completely boneless against John. “And then there’s what I come home to.”

John smirked. “And what’s that?”

“The biggest, baddest, baldest detective in New York,” Matt kissed the underside of John’s jaw.

“Uh-huh,” John refused to be distracted. “I’ll show you just how badass I am if you work that much overtime again.”

“Dickwad insisted that his mess get fixed tonight,” Matt shrugged. “I’m betting he has some sort of inspection or something coming up.”

John lowered his hands to Matt’s ass and gripped possessively. “So there is someone I need to kill.”

Matt patted John‘s shoulder. “Down, boy. Can you imagine how much paperwork you’d need to fill out if you offed someone from the FBI? They may not have invented bureaucracy, but they’ve perfected it.”

The FBI. John backed down, not realizing what agency Matt had been working for this time. “Wasn’t Bowman, was it?” He’d had a better opinion of the man than what Matt was describing.

“No, it wasn’t and, no, I’m not going to tell you,” Matt told him.

John wasn’t surprised; Matt wasn’t a snitch. Fortunately, he didn’t need to be. Bowman may not be involved, but he could find out who was. Bowman owed John and Matt both, so if someone from the FBI was giving Matty a hard time, Bowman would be willing to make heads roll.

“Fine,” John relented, but Matt wasn’t completely off the hook. “But there’s something else you’re going to do.”

Matt pulled back enough so he could look John in the face. “John, normally I’d be all over that.” His gaze swept over John’s body. “God, all over it, but I’m just wiped, man.”

John smirked. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Matty.” He reached over the table next to his chair, where a covered plate waited. “When’s the last time you ate anything?”

Seeing Matt’s face screw up in concentration, John qualified that question. “When’s the last thing you ate any real food. You know, stuff that doesn’t come from a can or wrapped in plastic?”

“Really? You’re gonna go there?” Matt complained. “I’ve got news for you, McClane, you’re the regular police, not the food police.”

John ignored Matt’s complaining, although he did take it as a sign that Matt hadn’t eaten anything substantial in way too long. He picked up the plate and waved it under Matt’s nose. “Eat.”

Matt sighed, but he picked up half a sandwich a took a big bite. He chewed and swallowed and John rewarded him with a kiss. “Mmmmm. . . . mayo. Yum.”

“Freak,” Matt murmured, but he was smiling. He ate another bite of the sandwich and John followed up with another kiss. Matt polished off the entire sandwich, but John didn’t know if it was because Matt had realized that he was hungry or because he liked getting kisses.

After the last swallow, Matt made as if to lean forward into John again, but McClane stopped him with a hand on his chest. “Not so fast, Matt. You’re not done yet.”

Matt blinked and for a moment John felt guilty as he saw again how tired the younger man was. “But McClane. . . .”

“You need a hot shower,” John insisted. He started to get up and carefully slid Matt of his lap. In his younger days, John would have just picked Matt up, but he was getting too old for that kind of stunt. Instead, he steadied Matt on his feet and wrapped an arm around him. “It’ll make your leg feel better.”

Although Matt leaned against John and obediently started limping with him towards the bathroom, he murmured something that sounded obscene to John.

“What did you say?” John demanded, although he was grinning.

“You know damn well what I said,” Matt mock glared at him.

“Shower. Now.” John smacked Matt lightly on the ass for encouragement.

“I need to get something to change into,” Matt whined. John recognized it for the delay tactic it was.

“No, you don’t,” he countered. “Now get in there.” Matt opened his mouth to argue again and John relented. “You’re going to get a leg massage when you’re done.”

To John’s amusement, Matt’s mouth snapped shut and he went into the bathroom willingly – almost quickly.

Chuckling softly, John went into the bedroom and turned down the bed. He thought about using massage oil, but while Matt had been limping, it wasn’t bad enough to warrant a complete massage. What Matty needed most was sleep and he wouldn’t get to that soon enough if John went all out.

It didn’t take long to make his preparations, so John perched on the edge of the mattress until he heard the water turn off. That was his signal to go into the bathroom, where Matt was trying to step out of the shower. John grabbed him to steady him.

“Thanks,” Matt’s skin was flushed, probably both from the shower and from needing the help.

“Don’t mention it,” John’s voice was gruff. Matt might be too tired to fool around, but John wasn’t. He told his body to behave and hoped it listened.

They both reached for the towel and managed to get into each other’s way. John impatiently batted Matt’s hand away. “I’ll get it.”

Matt sighed, but stood still and John swiped the lush pile fabric first over Matt’s hair and then his body. In most areas of his life, John was pretty Spartan, but showering was an area where both of them liked to indulge. John because of the physical activity of his job and all the bumps and bruises it caused and Matt because being hunched over a computer keyboard brought its own strain.

Drying Matt off took longer than it should have, mostly because John’s efficient initial wipes became longer and more appreciative of the body he was drying. Another thing that had changed after the fire sale was Matt’s physical fitness. He’d been the right weight before, but largely out of shape. As soon as his leg healed up enough to allow it, however, Matt had started working out. Being Matt, though, he hadn’t used a gym. Instead, he’d used some sort of video game. John couldn’t argue with the results, as much as griped at the way they were achieved. Matt would never be a heavy weight wrestler, but he was nicely muscled in all the right places.

John left off drying Matt only when he felt the younger man start to shiver. “Okay, we’re done.”

He dumped the towel into the bathtub and held out his hand to Matt, who took it. John immediately tucked Matt under his arm and took him to the bedroom. Matt stayed uncharacteristically silent, but John didn’t take offense. He saw that the young man’s eyes were already half-lidded and knew Matt was wiped out.

“Come on, you know the routine,” John said, not unkindly, as he got Matt to the bed. Sighing, Matt stretched out and when John lifted his leg, obediently put his bare foot on John’s chest.

Once they were in position, John used his hands to start kneading the flesh around Matt’s knee. At first Matt gasped and John could see that his hands were fisted in the blankets, but as the kink were worked out and the muscles loosened, John could both see and feel Matt relax. “Good?”

Matt nodded. “Mmmmmmmmmmmm. . . .”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” John smirked.

Despite Matt’s near boneless state and indistinct verbal affirmation, John continued with the massage. He liked having his hands on Matty, but especially when he was caring for Matt’s wounded leg. Not only had John not been able to save the young man from being hurt, but Matt had also saved John’s daughter. The massage was both an apology and an act of appreciation.

“Enough,” Matt’s voice was clearer and when John looked at him in surprise, Matt’s returning gaze was more focused than it had been since the shower. “Get in here.”

Matt patted the mattress next to him. Smiling ruefully, John gave Matt’s leg a chaste kiss before setting it down. He then crawled into bed with Matt and pulled the covers over both of them.

“Now that’s what I call service,” Matt murmured, snuggling back into John, who was wrapped up around him like a second blanket.

“I’m a full service bald cop,” John quipped. “We protect and serve and, when we’re not too busy being bad asses, give rub downs.”

“It’s not your fault I got shot, you know,” Matt’s voice was sleepy, but firm.

“I know,” John kissed Matt’s shoulder. “But you’re ‘that guy,’ Matty, and there’s got to be some sort of reward for that, as shitty as it is.”

“Hey, bald is beautiful, man,” Matt yawned. “I’m pretty happy with my reward.”

“Go to sleep, Matt,” John ordered, kissing the back of Matt’s neck and making him shiver.

“Yes, sir,” Matt sighed; he was already halfway there.

“Crazy kid,” John said softly, although Matt wasn’t really a kid and he was the smartest person that John knew; far from crazy, despite his affection for a grizzled cop.

Holding Matt tightly, John joined his lover in sleep.

~the end~


End file.
